


Heroes

by Pearl_Primrose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Middle Earth Setting, BAMF Nori, Drama, Durin Feels, Dwarves, Erebor, Ered Luin, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Harry Potter References, POV Character of Color, POV Original Female Character, Plot Twists, Possessive Thorin, Protective Thorin, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearl_Primrose/pseuds/Pearl_Primrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rue's stuck in Middle-earth, meets Sir Swajesty Thorin Oakenshield through an epic bar fight, and learns Dwarves live as long as sea turtles, all the while on the run from some Malfoy wannabe during a quest to slay the Hungarian Horntail's ugly love child. Thorin/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. House of the Rising Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I tagged this tragic romance because I'm still very undecided on the end. Things could change ;) This is a shameless girl-falls-in-Middle-earth-and-goes-on-quest fic. I've made some very big changes that differ from the book and movie so hopefully when you read this (if you do), it won't feel repetitive. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything or I would be a rich mothafo. Everything belongs to Tolkien and Peter Jackson. I do not own “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals and I do not own “Heroes” by David Bowie, where the title of the fic comes from.

****

****

_There is a house in New Orleans_

_They call the Rising Sun_

_And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy_

_And God I know I’m one_

****

     Rue knew just as much about _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit_ , as she did about hair relaxers. It just wasn’t meant to be. You know, if she _hadn’t_ fallen in Middle-earth, then she would still be happily naïve. Yes, Middle freaking earth. Why here out of all places? Why not Hogwarts? Rue was a _Harry Potter_ fanatic, not a Tolkien-gone-cuckoo-for-cocoa-puffs type of chick. If she had landed in Hogwarts, she would’ve known what to do, where to go. Dumbledore. Duh. But here all she knew was―that Gollum was crazy, there was an important Hobbit named Frodo, the one ring was Voldemort-status evil, and there was a cool Dwarf out there named Gimli.

        She let out a painful sigh as she sat at a table with a man who made Voldemort look like a happy camper―Naji. They were sitting in the Prancing Pony, Rue deciding she would rather be back in college, where some person always pointed out, “Gee, you go by the same name as that chick who dies in _The Hunger Games_.” Well, on the bright side, Rue wasn’t named Katniss. Rue didn’t really mind the name-pointing-out much, but it used to sometimes grate her nerves if she had a bad day. But of course, because she was Rue, she had never said anything. Maybe on that fateful day when she fell in Middle-earth one month ago, she should’ve said something to Naji, but nope.

       He was picking at her hair, the feel of his long fingers making her uncomfortable. “Why is your hair so out-of-control, so _unruly_? You will cut it before you start resembling a Dwarf. Oh, a _Dwarf_ , what vile creatures,” Naji said loudly, not caring to keep down his boisterous voice. She knew not to say anything or he would really go off, as in yell like Ron at the Yule Ball. Rue pulled her hair back sheepishly, trying to make the gesture seem completely natural, so she wouldn’t offend him.

     He leaned back in his chair, putting his boots up on the table, mud from his boots dripping all over the place. Gross. Rue hugged herself, trying not to let it bother her. Naji had said if she agreed to escort him places, like “hanging out,” then he would take her to meet the Guardians of Middle-earth who might be able to send her home. So for now, Rue was going to play nice. Nobody else around here was willing to help her. When she had fallen in Middle-earth, everybody in Bree had called her crazy and delusional. At least Rue had sweeping and cleaning tables in the tavern―which gave her a free room in the Prancing Pony―to distract her from the not-so-obvious whisperings of, “That woman is mad.”

            “Dwarves are cool,” Rue, piped up, grinning as she remembered watching some bits and pieces of the second _Lord of the Rings_ moviewhen she was a kiddo living in a motel with her family. They had scraped up the money to buy it on pay-per-view because it’d been Rue’s birthday. Too bad, she’d fallen asleep that night because then maybe she would understand what the heck Middle-earth was all about.

            “What is this ‘cool’ you keep speaking of?” Naji asked, his black ponytail swinging behind him as he eyed a passing barmaid too longingly. The ponytail made him look like Gaston from _Beauty and the Beast_.

            “Uh, nothing,” Rue murmured guardedly. She took a sip of water, pondering over how close the Shire really was. If she could make it to the Shire on her own, she would try to see if she could find Frodo or that dude named Pippin. They were main characters in _Lord of the Rings_ , so they ought to know the Guardians of Middle-earth. The Shire seemed interesting anyway. It was filled with freaking Hobbits. Hobbits!

            “Look what speaking of Dwarves has brought upon us,” Naji snarled, glaring daggers at the entrance as four Dwarves walked in. “It is that same _Dwarf_ from yesterday, ‘King Under the Mountain.’ He was meeting with the Wandering Wizard as though he is of vast importance.”

    Rue was anxious, half wondering if she should ask the Dwarves where Gimli was or if _they_ knew the Guardians of Middle-earth. These Dwarves were definitely from somewhere else, out of town. If Rue played it cool, they wouldn’t think she was crazy and might help. Hey, she wasn’t counting on it, but might as well try. The people of Bree were okay, but weren’t going to help her anytime soon or tell her jackshit, unless the person’s name rhymed with Haji.

   She watched as one of the Dwarves passed her quick, the guy pintsize, wearing cardigan gloves. He was adorkable. Rue was about to get up and ask Mr. Adorkable questions about the Guardians, but another Dwarf distracted her. This one had red hair. Hey, he was wearing the Snooki bump, but with braids.

     He paused by the table, eyes narrowing on Rue. He gave her the willies for some reason. Rue’s arm shot across the table in her fit of sudden nervousness, crashing against her glass of water. The glass rolled off the table, landing on the floor, luckily just creating a _thump_ and not shattering.

    The Dwarf knelt down to pick up the glass before Rue could jump off the chair and say, “It was this Gaston lookalike! Get him,” and then run out the door.

     He passed her the glass, Naji giving the guy the stink eye big time.

            “I see you have lost your water,” the Dwarf simply said. He then continued on his way across the Prancing Pony, following Mr. Adorkable.

       After him, came a gray-haired Dwarf, who was stomping and muttering angrily underneath his breath. He followed the other two Dwarves, fists clenched by his side. She wondered what had Mr. Fussy Dwarf’s undies in a bunch.

     Out of desperation and for once ignoring her insecurities that said, “The Dwarves already think you’re stupid, duh, since you spilled your water,” she went to stand up, but sat back down when she saw the fourth Dwarf walk by her. _That_ was definitely King Under the Mountain. He sure was _scary_ , giving off an air of toughness that screamed, “You fuck with me, I’m gonna kick your ass.” Rue watched the Dwarf in fascination, his long, dark wavy hair spilling over his shoulders as he stormed across the Prancing Pony. Naji clenched his fist, giving Grouchy Dwarf the ugliest sneer she’d ever seen him wear.

   Hmm. Well, Grouchy Dwarf was definitely _not_ approachable. Mr. Adorkable seemed like the most likely option to talk to.

            “You act as though Dwarves are the most fascinating of races,” Naji interrupted her thoughts. “It affirms your mad story even more. Do you not know Dwarves are greedy and would rather stay in their mountains, hoarding their treasure? Why is ‘King Under the Mountain’ here? Does he have Dwarf soldiers lined up outside Bree, ready to attack? This is a town of Men. He needs to learn his place and _leave_.”

            “Uh,” Rue awkwardly said, her stomach clenching at Naji’s discrimination, “but Gimli was a hero.” It felt like the tavern was too small, the people sitting by their table too close, like she was claustrophobic.

            “Who is this Gimli you keep speaking of?”

            “I don’t know the details, but he’s short, has a red beard, and this awesome helmet. He dove in the middle of this battle on all these Orcs to save his friend.”

            “Well―” Naji snorted, pointedly glancing at his boots― “take off my boots.”

   Rue’s eyes doubled in size as she watched the Dwarves all settle in on one table, casting glances at the Men warily. Grouchy Dwarf leered dangerously at Naji before averting his gaze. Okay, she could handle Naji saying snide remarks about her appearance, but not the taking-off-his-boots thing.

            “What?” Rue asked, tempted to pull her bushy, got electrocuted-status, ashy blonde hair in front of her face to pretend this wasn’t really happening.

            “You _heard_ me. You must earn the right for me to take you to the Guardians of Middle-earth.”

            “You really want me to take off your boots?” Her voice sounded pathetic to her own ears. Rue hoped Naji had suddenly developed a sense of humor and this was a joke.

            “Yes, now do it, or else I _will_ never help you seek out the Guardians who will return you home,” he said acidly, his bottomless eyes honing in on her.

     Rue looked away, flinching, gulping. Okay, this was going to be one of the most degrading things she’d ever done, ‘sides from searching for cigarette butts on the streets to give to Mom.

      She stood up, dark eyes squinting as she touched Naji’s boots, getting mud on her hands. Rue was disgusted, making a face worthy of Hogwarts students in herbology class. Rue pretended it didn’t bother her, yanking off his boots. She dropped them on the floor fast, shaking her hands and squealing in disgust.

            “You are squeamish, are you not?” Naji cocked an eyebrow at her.

            Rue swallowed hard. “So―so, uh―”

            “Stop stuttering,” Naji snapped. “It is very unbecoming.” What?

            Rue glared now, _this_ close to breaking down. Usually, she was calm and collected, but right now, it was too much. She was shaking, body clammy, her chest heaving. Between dropping her glass of water, Snooki Dwarf giving her the heebie-jeebies, and Naji degrading her ugly hair, tears pricked her eyes. Don’t cry, she told herself. But then her lips were quivering, this wretched choking sound leaving her body. She just wanted to go home, even if home was Stockton, California. At this point, Rue missed Wilson Way and all the prostitutes lining down the street.

            “DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?” Naji roared, banging a fist on the table. Most of the Prancing Pony fell deafeningly silent, the rowdy Men and four Dwarves watching everything unfold like it was some soap opera. Naji pushed his red tunic sleeves back, revealing gorilla arms, clenching his fists in anger. 

            Rue stammered, “I―I did.” She suddenly noticed the burning candle at their table, _really_ taking note of it. If worst came to worst, she would hit Naji with the lit candle. Rue wiped the few stray tears falling down her cheeks, the quiet in the tavern making her flesh prickle with goose bumps.

            “Are you crying?” Naji mocked, smirking.

            Rue shook her head, her hand inching closer to the candle. Sure, she did come off as a pushover, but she knew how to fight back when she had to. You didn’t grow up in Stockton and go to school there your entire life without knowing a thing or two about self-preservation.

            Naji then rose out of his chair, the big height difference between them suddenly making the hairs on the back of Rue’s neck stand up. Oh, no. Her hands clasped the chair’s headrest, knuckles turning white in her death grip.

     The Men sitting at the bar were blinking in confusion, looking to each other as if wondering, “Should we interfere or let the lad teach his lady a good lesson?” Okay, so Rue wasn’t exactly sure that was what they were thinking, but from the one month she’d lived in Middle-earth, she had quickly learned the guys of Bree thought it was okay to “discipline” their wives. Rue wasn’t Naji’s anything, but the people of Bree seemed to think he was going to court her soon. Not that Rue would ever agree to that.

            Naji began tartly, large front teeth flashing, “First, you ogle over Dwarves, as though they are really _worth_ something.”

       Rue put a hand to her mouth. Uh, she didn’t know much about Middle-earth, but it was starting to sound like Naji had a death eaters campaign against Dwarves. She shrunk back as he stepped closer, making sure her hands never left the chair. Her heart pounded wildly, these jumble of nerves skyrocketing through her body. Tears streamed down her face, from the humiliation, from the daunting realization that what if this was the rest of her life. Hadn’t she suffered enough? No. Must be optimistic―

            Naji started bellowing bloody murder, his face red, voice echoing like a grenade, “IF YOU ENJOY DWARVES SO MUCH, THEN BY ALL MEANS ASK IF THEY BELIEVE YOUR MAD STORY! GO ON! BETTER YET, ASK THEM TO OVERCOME THEIR HINDRANCES FIRST, AS IN THEIR PATHETIC HEIGHTS AND GREE―”

            _Wham_.

  Rue’s hand had shot out, smacking Naji across the face, a giant, red handprint etched in his cheek. His nostrils started flaring, dark eyes becoming violently irate. Oh, shit. Rue had poked a freaking bear. It was at that moment, she knew she had just initiated what would be the second fistfight of her life.

            “I’m so―sorry,” she sputtered.

    She swallowed hard, scared out of her mind, yanking up the chair just as Naji stormed forward. Rue held the chair up between them as a barrier, stumbling backwards.

            “Leave the lass alone.”

    Rue took a quick glimpse over her shoulder, in shock as she saw Mr. Fussy Dwarf standing behind her, leering with the utmost animosity at Naji. She was about to tell Mr. Fussy that she was from Stockton and could handle it, when he gently pulled her backwards.

    Mr. Fussy neared Naji, completely unabashed by their height differences. Rue lowered the chair, open-mouthed. All of a sudden, Mr. Adorkable and Snooki Dwarf were thundering past her, sneering as they stood on both sides of Mr. Fussy.

            “Three Dwarves.” Naji snorted. “ _Pathetic_. Come back to confront me when each of you have grown five inches or so, better yet, go hide in your mountains. It is for those sole reasons Dwarf kingdoms like _Erebor_ have been lost, because the Valar saw you _creatures_ were up to nothing worthy of the whole of Middle-earth. They punished the likes of greedy Dwarves like Thror.” Fire flashed in his eyes as he growled, giving Grouchy Dwarf a pointed glance, “Erebor _deserved_ to be burned. If I could, I would congratulate Smaug.”

      The Prancing Pony was deathly silent, the tension in the tavern as taut as a piano string.

      Rue didn’t know what Erebor exactly was or Smaug, but even she got the gist that was a low blow by the looks on the Dwarves’ faces. Snooki Dwarf pulled a flash of silver out of his sleeve―a knife. Mr. Adorkable lurched forward, cardigan knitted gloves balled in fists as Mr. Fussy pulled him back.

      In a flash, Grouchy Dwarf trudged past Rue, his coat swirling by his legs regally, the look on his face murderous. He clenched his fists, marching right up to Naji, ignoring the other Dwarves. Fleeting emotion was on his face, replaced quickly by hardness, by this ugly rage that was a force all its own. Rue hadn’t meant to start all this. Oh, no. She hugged herself, sheepishly nearing their table to get the candle, stopping in her tracks when Naji spoke.

            “Well, well, it looks as though the _right_ Dwarf has returned to a place he is not welcomed. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror―” He raised his arms in the air mockingly dramatic― “King Under the Mountain. So _Thorin_ , you are such a ‘king’ are you not? Is that why I saw you slaving away in villages of Men, the more dominant race―”

    His words were cut-off as Thorin punched him in the face, the hit so hard that Naji’s six foot four frame was sent stumbling backwards, his body crashing against a wooden wall. He was in shock, wiping away a fountain of blood dripping down his long nose.

    Rue squeaked, jumping in alarm as the Men in the Prancing Pony were suddenly up on their feet, cheering the fight on. This wasn’t the time to compare anything to high school, but it reminded her of one of those high school fights some kid would record on their cell and put on YouTube, except fifty times more serious. Emotions galore flooded her: fear, guilt, uneasiness, confusion, and misery. Thorin bounded after Naji, growling under his breath.

            Snooki Dwarf raised his arms in the air. “Aye, Thorin, give him a kick in the r―”

            “You were not really going to use that?” Mr. Adorkable asked, his voice splintered, pointing at the knife in Snooki Dwarf’s grip.

            He grinned cheekily. “Of course not, Ori.”

            Mr. Fussy interrupted, stomping one foot down, looking seconds away from throttling Snooki Dwarf with his bare hands after he had a go with Naji, “Will you give it a rest, Nori, Thorin is in tr―”

            “Dori, he is not in trouble,” Nori said coolly. “Why must you always make a big fuss over nothing?”

            “ _This_ is nothing? A Man insulting the loss of Erebor―”

     Rue fleetingly noticed Nori and Dori continued bickering, their faces becoming passing thoughts as Thorin slammed Naji against the wooden wall. His giant hands were gripped around the collar of Naji’s tunic, sending his head _cracking_ against wood.  Naji bucked forward, punching Thorin in the stomach. Thorin stumbled back, his expression hell-hath-no-fury-like-a Dwarf-scorned livid.

      Their arms tangled as they grappled, trading punches back and forth, Thorin having the upper hand. Rue picked up the candle, her fingers shivering so bad she almost dropped it five times in one-minute.

      Thorin and Naji’s fighting forms were getting achingly close to a window. Oh, crap. Rue whirled past two men who were toasting drinks to each other, gulping down the alcohol in one swig. They were certainly enjoying seeing Thorin kick Naji’s ass. Her brillo pad hair brushed past several other men standing by their tables, who were making bets on how long it would take Thorin to knock Naji out. Rue thought fifty seconds. Naji was going down like a mothafo that had talked too much trash on the Southside of Stockton, and then had been introduced to the legit gangsters.

     Naji pushed Thorin toward the window ledge, Thorin losing his footing briefly before straightening his stance. A yell tore its way from Naji’s throat as he bum rushed Thorin. The Dwarf growled, sidestepping Naji. An ear-splitting _shatter_ ripped through the tavern. Naji crashed through the window, Thorin shoving the rest of his limp form outside.

     Dori, Nori, and Ori raced to Thorin’s side, but not before the owner of the Prancing Pony met Thorin, screaming in his face.

            “DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE JUST DONE?” Rue had never seen the owner this mad before.

            Thorin roared, the first time she’d ever heard his voice a shock. It was gruff, bitter, and full of pain.

“WHAT I HAVE DONE? MAYBE YOUR FILTHY KIN SHOULD NOT SPEAK ON MATTERS THEY KNOW NOTHING OF!” He was animalistic, yelling in the owner’s face. Rue waited for Thorin to punch him, too.

     Dori’s jaw was open. Nori was nodding in approval, jerking a thumb toward the broken window, guffawing as Naji’s beaten body stirred in the mud outside. Ori was open-mouthed, watching Thorin in awe.

            “Wait! Don’t yell at him!” Rue squealed desperately. She jumped in front of the Dwarves, wailing her arms around like she was going to do the windmill.

            “Oh, so now we hear from the woman who caused such disaster in the first place?” The owner snarled.

            The Men in the tavern were laughing in uproar, elbowing each other like it was the funniest thing ever.

            Rue blinked, trying not to cry again. The owner was right. It was her fault, for crying and not going upstairs to her room to avoid Naji, but―but―she wanted to go home, so desperate that she was willing to hang out with an asshole.

            “Please leave the Dwarves alone?” she said frantically. “They didn’t do anything.”

        Thorin puffed out his chest, stepping in front of Rue, out of what she suspected to be too much pride.

            “Naji is the son of the Master of Bree, _Ruby_ ,” the owner snapped, using Rue’s full name. She only had introduced herself as Ruby the first day she got here, but had been Rue from then on.

            “I―I know,” she said pathetically, “I just―I will work longer hours to pay for the broken window. I pinkie swear.”

      The owner looked at her quizzically, Thorin opening his mouth to say something.

    In a flash, a sickening _crunch_ resounded as Naji came back from the dead, his arm shooting through the window, a piece of medieval pipe in hand. He slammed the pipe over the back of Thorin’s head, the Dwarf stumbling forward. Rue gasped, throwing her candle at Naji, the lit tip striking Naji in the face. He screamed girlishly, slapping his face in horror, falling on his butt in the mud outside.

    Thorin blinked wearily for a few passing seconds before falling backwards, eyes rolling in the back of his head. Blood matted his wavy dark locks, pouring from the gash on the back of his skull. Nori and Dori caught Thorin, settling him down on the floor. The Prancing Pony was in pandemonium as some Men argued, others rushing forward to help Thorin, while some yelled at Naji or offered him congrats for knocking out Thorin Oakenshield. Pricks. Rue was shaking, kneeling down, glancing at Ori as he hopped over the window ledge, running crazily toward Naji with a slingshot in hand. Rue couldn’t help but wonder how people ended up with the last name Oakenshield. It reminded her of _Harry Potter_ last names: Lestrange, Snape, Longbottom, Lovegood. All she could think was, “I hope Thorin Oakenshield isn’t dead from a bar fight that was…my fault.” In her panic, she touched Thorin’s chest, searching for a heartbeat. Moments later, she found one, grinning humorlessly.

            “It will take a whole lot more to kill a Dwarf, especially one from the line of Durin,” Dori said quietly.

            She peered at Dori in the eye for a long moment, his stare sullen.

            “Uh―well, even if he wasn’t from the line of Durin, Thorin looks tough enough to be A-Okay,” Rue spoke lamely. 

            “What are we going to do now?” The owner yelled at Rue, nearly yanking out his patches of gray hair. “When the Master of Bree arrives, he will toss the Dwarf out of town for what he has done to Naji. And the Dwarf is _passed_ out. I am above throwing out a man who needs healing for his injuries.”

            “Toss him out and you will regret it,” Dori snarled dangerously. His expression was deadly serious.

            “Then what do we do?” The owner snapped, bulbous nose red.

            They were all silent, contemplating what the hell to do.

            Rue then stood up, declaring, “He can stay in my bed for the night, uh, I’ll―” She gulped, saying her next words out of guilt― “ _tell_   the Master of Bree that I beat up Naji.” Like anyone would believe it, but it was worth a shot. She’d seen some ninety-pound ladies whoop 200 hundred pound guys before. Rue wasn’t ninety-pounds, not even close to that, but maybe she’d play up her “blackout rage” side to get the Master of Bree to believe her.

            The owner nodded, eyes going up his forehead. “That is inappropriate, _Ruby_ , for a man to stay in your room. And you will be banished if that is what you choose to say.”

            “It’s okay, I got other plans.” Rue smiled toothily like she always did when she was so afraid, she didn’t think things could get any worse. She would go to the Shire once she got kicked out of here, hang out with the short people, and search for Frodo. Yep, that plan sounded tons better than being Naji’s lapdog.

_Oh mother tell your children_

_Not to do what I have done_

_Spend your lives in sin and misery_

_In the House of the Rising Sun_


	2. With or Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and bookmark! Now onto the second chapter.

**_Disclaimer:_** I feel totally corny using “With or Without You” by U2, but whatevs, I’m a _little_ bit of a cheeseball. I do not own this song.

****

****

            “Has anyone seen a―bracelet with the peace sign?” Rue watched Ori, Nori, and Dori, who were all perplexed by the word: peace sign. “I mean this circle is on it with this Y shape in the middle. I probably left it downstairs. Oh, geeze.” No way was she going down there to get it right now. Not after all the craziness that had gone down. She nervously scratched her head, sitting back down on the chair propped by her bed, which was currently occupied by an unconscious Thorin. Nightfall was fast approaching outside; moonlight flooding through the window on the far side of the bedroom, casting a whitish glow on Thorin’s knocked out form.

        Dori’s eyes suddenly widened as he pointedly glared at Nori. “Nori, did you―”

            Nori shrugged nonchalantly, pulling Rue’s bracelet out of his pocket.

            She bounced to her feet, grabbing it, and assumed stupidly, “You found it!”

            Ori nervously chuckled.

            “Found it?” Dori stammered in disbelief. “More like _stole_ it.”

            “I found it.” Nori nodded in mock assurance, this wild gleam in his eyes.

            Rue cocked her head to the side, pointing at him. “Hey! You stole it when I dropped my cup of water, didn’t you? Oh my gosh, you’re a―”

            “Thief,” Dori finished irritably for her, crossing his arms over his chest. Behind him, parts of the stone wall shone underneath the ever-increasing moonlight.

            Rue clutched her bracelet between two hands, smiling. “Awesome.” Sure, he was a punk for stealing from right underneath her nose, but she couldn’t help admire his skill. Nori had to be a thief extraordinaire to have stolen it right in front of her face, or maybe she was just that stupid. She guessed the latter.

            Nori rolled his eyes. “I did steal it, but I offer my most heartfelt apology.” He put his hand over his heart, this naughty twinkle still in his eyes as he bowed. Rue could tell he _so_ didn’t mean his apology, but hey what the heck, she had one of her only things from home back in her hands.

            “At least I don’t have to go down there and look for it, you know.” She shrugged, smiling humorlessly.

         She sat back down, brushing her bushy bangs out of her eyes. They were getting too long.

            “I never seen a piece of jewelry so fascinating,” Nori said deliberately, scratching his chin.

            “Every piece of something worth anything is fascinating to _you_ ,” Dori grumbled.

            Ori blinked, seeming embarrassed, staring from Dori to Nori. “I do not want to speak out of term, but I think it would best if we―I am not sure how to say this―well, _make sure_ Thorin is all right before you two start fighting again.”

       Rue couldn’t agree with Ori more, but she held her tongue, leaning forward in the chair. Carefully, and because Thorin was scary, she grasped his chin, his beard scratching against her fingertips, turning his head to make sure the medieval tape sealing the gash on the back of his skull wasn’t bleeding through again.

       She let go of Thorin, turning to face the three Dwarves. “I’m really sorry about everything, you know. Usually, I don’t get in bar fights or cause them because I don’t do the whole bar thing. In Stockton, a lotta people like to go clubbing like they’re in _Jersey Shore_ , but yeah. My cousin Nat wanted to take me clubbing.” Yep, like they knew what clubbing was and cared that Natalie was always trying to drag her to the clubs in Sac-town.

            “Is Stockton your realm, Miss Rue?” Ori politely asked.

            “Yep” She nodded, grinning. Calling Stockton a “realm” was really cute. It was better than just “city.”

            Dori narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “If I may ask, Miss Rue, did you strike Naji son of Claudio, because of the _disgusting_ things he said of my kin?”

        All of them were looking at her, unblinking, anticipating her answer. Talk about pressure.

            “I’ll keep it one-hundred,” Rue started timidly. “I mean I’ll say the truth. I don’t know a lot about Dwarves. There are none in Stockton, but what Naji was saying sounded like Voldemort’s campaign against muggles and muggle-borns, and I just couldn’t―so usually, I’m mellow, but it just got to me. So I slapped him, which I shouldn’t have. I don’t know much about Erebor or Smaug, but from what it sounded, it sounded like Naji took it too far.” Rue was now rambling, sounding tongue-tied and stupid.

            Nori and Dori gave each other these calculating stares, as if conveying a million unsaid thoughts to each other in a single look. It reminded Rue of her cousin Natalie, the way they could peer at each other, and know what the other one was thinking. It was then she realized Dori, Nori, and Ori were brothers. They must’ve been.

            “You do not know what happened to Erebor?” Dori asked, his lips pursed tightly, the color draining from his face.

        Rue felt like a herp derp. She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know, but it’s ‘cause I’m dumb. I believed in unicorns until I was seven.” Yep, she should have watched _Lord of the Rings_. Now Rue felt like hitting herself in the head. The movies had been out for over ten years, and she hadn’t found _one_ chance to watch them.

            “Unicorns?” Ori was puzzled.

            “Miss Rue,” Dori began gravely, unmistakable pain seeping in his voice. Ori and Nori lowered their heads in unsaid respect. The room felt deathly cold now, the chilliness of the oncoming conversation freezing Rue in her chair. He continued sorrowfully, “Erebor was lost to the Dragon Smaug over one-hundred years ago, when the Dragon from the north came to The Lonely Mountain to seek out all the gold King Thror had, Thorin’s grandfather. Thorin was there on that horrendous day. Smaug destroyed Erebor and the city of Dale, and he _saw_ with his very eyes the destruction. And so when Naji said what he said, he could not bear it―” Dori’s hands were behind his back, his gaze so woeful, Rue felt her stomach clench in despair― “The Dwarves of Erebor were without a home, a once mighty people ruined. Thorin has made a new home for the Dwarves of Erebor in the Blue Mountains, has worked his fingers endlessly for his people, and to be spoken to in such a way―” Dori shook his head.

            Rue was fanning herself, hiccupping as fresh tears sprung from her eyes. Oh, gosh, it was selfish of _her_ out of all people to cry, like she was a Dwarf from Erebor, but it just resonated with her. She wiped her eyes, making an ugly choking noise that was a sob. She’d been homeless before. All she could remember for fifteen years straight was moving from motel to motel, living for a few days here and there in other people’s houses, and having few homes for three months at the most before getting evicted. Rue squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry like a big wussy. If she were Thorin, she would’ve molly whomped Naji’s butt, too.

            “Miss Rue, why are you crying?” Dori asked, standing straighter, alarmed.

            “I―it’s sad,” she squeaked, lips quivering. “I’m sorry for crying, but I just―” Rue wanted to say, “Can’t help but feel this _weird_ connection to Thorin and the Dwarves of Erebor because they _understand_ the crappiest feeling in the world: not having a home.” Instead, Rue sputtered, “This was never in _Lord of the Rings_.”

            “You sob for my kin,” Dori noted frankly, blinking in disbelief as if he really wasn’t seeing this.

     Rue wiped away the last of her tears, wishing she had her Tigger stuff-animal from back home to hold.          

            “See, Dori, miracles _do_ happen, such as someone from the race of Men grieving for Dwarves,” Nori spoke jokingly.

            “What is _Lord of the Rings_?” Ori wondered, eyes big in curiosity.

            “A movie in Middle-earth.”

            “What is a ‘movie’?”

            “It’s something from my realm,” Rue explained in a shaky voice, too emotionally drained to tell Ori what a movie exactly was. Besides, she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. She may have not been the brightest bulb in the tanning bed, but telling this “supposed” fictional world about the fact that their world was fictional where she came from, might’ve been all bad.

            “They speak of Middle-earth in your realm?” Nori questioned dubiously, cocking his head to the side.

            “Yeah.” She smiled humorlessly, wondering if Thorin was going to be okay.

   Rue gave him a once over, putting a hand to her forehead in worry, feeling new pimples and blackheads underneath her palm. Please let him be okay and not come out of this permanently damaged?

_See the stone set in your eyes_

_See the thorn twist in your side_

_I wait for you_

    Rue was nodding off in the chair, the beginning of a dream about a Rottweiler chasing her down Pacific Avenue while she was naked materializing. She jolted awake quick, the room in complete darkness, except for a lighted candle on the bedside table.

    She could hear Ori, Nori, and Dori having some kind of dispute about who slept where on the floor.

      She leaned forward, immediately frightened when she saw Thorin’s brilliant blue eyes through the darkness. Dang, the dude had pretty eyes.

            “How do you feel?” She stood up from the chair, panicking. “Are you okay? Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?” Rue held up five fingers in front of Thorin’s face, realizing it was pointless since the room was dark. Herp derp moment.

            “Where am I?” Thorin growled impatiently, his silhouette jerking backwards defensively.

            “You’re in my room, Thorin, your friends are here, too,” she said awkwardly. “My name’s Rue. S’up.” Rue lamely held up a friendly hand like Thorin could see it. “I, uh, was the one who slapped Naji a good one. I felt bad, but now I don’t. He kinda deserved that butt whooping.” Rue was so nervous, she was rambling.

            “Thorin is awake?” Dori asked eagerly, the sound of his _thudding_ footsteps vibrating throughout the room. Thanks Dori. If she would’ve been talking to Thorin any longer, she surely would have said something stupid to piss him off. Even though the room was drenched in darkness, his mere presence was enough to shake her to the core. He reminded Rue of Natalie.

      Ori and Nori anxiously screeched to a halt next to the bed, following close behind Dori.

            “Light another candle,” Nori told Ori bossily. “Better yet the fireplace. Hurry along.”

     Rue heard the sound of Ori muttering something under his breath. She thought she heard an insult, but couldn’t be sure. Moments later, the fireplace was lit, giving much-needed light in the room.

     Now Rue could see King Under the Mountain, his eyes wild in uncertainty, body slackening when he saw the Ri brothers―they had told Rue their last name an hour or so ago. Ri sounded Japanese, and a lot cooler than her last name: Offerman. Thorin sat up in bed, head whipping back and forth from the Ri brothers to her.

   An orangey glow was cast on everybody’s faces, making the entire situation even more surreal. Rue wondered if it was a good time to mention that a ghost supposedly haunted this room.

            “ _You_ ,” Thorin sneered, glaring at Rue.

            She pointed at herself, nodding. “Me.”

            Nori softly chuckled, muffling his laughter after a pointed leer from Dori.

            “The son of Claudio, Master of Bree, struck you in the back of the head with a piece of pipe from outside,” Dori explained stiffly, cheeks puffing out in seething rage. Rue had only met a Dwarf for the first time hours ago, but she was starting to think when they meant serious business, they refused to call the person who wronged them by their first name. Naji was now just “son of Claudio.” Cool.

            “Like a coward,” Ori added, nodding as his hands were on his sides, puffing out his small chest.

            “You missed the lass strike him in the face with a candle,” Nori spoke airily, smirking.

            Rue covered her face in horror, realizing burning Naji with a candle probably had made things ten times worse than when Thorin had just kicked his ass. What was she going to do when Claudio showed up? She didn’t want to think about it, biting her lip.

            “Why? Was he not your betrothed or _courting_ you?” Thorin stared long and hard at Rue, scrutinizing every detail of her body language and facial expressions. This was what Natalie did to people: size them up and then judge.

            “Good point,” Nori agreed, gazing at Rue now, along with Ori and Dori.

            “He’s not my boyfriend―I mean betrothed or anything to me,” she squeaked, her knuckles hovering over her mouth in the crazy anxiety she was feeling. “He just wanted me to escort him places, like…spend time with and stuff.” Dang, her word choices were pitiful. If the Dwarves didn’t think she was stupid before, they did now.

            Thorin’s eyes were critical, fierce as he snapped, “Why would you spend time with a man of such _filth_? Do you not have enough decency to refuse to be treated in such a way?”

    Ori was open-mouthed, evidently disagreeing with Thorin’s bluntness. Dori nodded in approval, while Nori uncomfortably sent the tip of his boots scuffing against the wooden floor.

            Rue decided it was time to explain herself, her crazy story that was still hard for her to believe even after a month of living here.

            “I only,” she said woefully, gaze on the wooden floor, “agreed to hang out with Naji because he said―” She swallowed hard, desperately keeping her emotions at bay― “that he would help me return home because―”

            “Because what?” Thorin hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “It is thanks to _you_ that I will not be able to travel tonight, and leave this _wretched_ place.”

            “He said he would take me to meet the Guardians of Middle-earth!” Rue cried out, voice becoming shrilly. “I’m not from here! I―” This was the embarrassing part of her story, but she had nothing left to lose― “fell out of the sky and landed on some barn outside of Bree. Nobody believes me, but―” Her eyes were watering for the millionth time today ― “Naji saw me fall from the sky. Everyone else here thinks I’m crazy! In my world, I―I was walking home from the bus stop and then I got hit by a car. Then suddenly I was falling from the sky.” Rue held back tears, shivering. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you my clothes. Wait a sec.”

   She started to unbutton the black cloak draped around her shoulders.

            Ori gave a gasp of fright, Dori shielding his eyes. Thorin looked away, while Nori openly stared, grinning cheekily.

            “What are you doing? That is indecent,” Thorin said petulantly from underneath his breath. He was only in his tunic, his fur-lined coat on the end of the bed, shining in the candlelight.

            “My clothes are underneath this cloak,” Rue explained, sniveling. She finished unbuttoning it, saying humorlessly, “Ta-da.”

     The Dwarves took in the sight of her raggedy blue t-shirt that said _Girl Power_ and black sweatpants at once, Thorin’s eyes widening. 

            “See, my clothes are―”

            “Strange,” Nori finished for her. “I believe I need some pipe weed.”

            “Aye,” Dori grunted.

            “Me, too,” Ori piped up.

            “No,” Dori and Nori affirmed obstinately at the same time, both scowling.

            “Come along, we will see if there is any pipe weed from the scarce, decent Men around here,” Dori beckoned his younger bros to follow.

     Rue was _this_ close to running after them, preparing to cry, “Hey, I’m willing to break my straight edge oath for this pipe weed if it means I don’t have to be alone with Thorin,” but it was obvious the Ri brothers were purposely leaving them alone.

    The door to the room shut with a gentle _thud_ , the whistle of a soft wind dusting across the room. Hollow silence echoed. Rue hugged herself, slowly sitting back down in the chair. She fumbled with the buttons on her cloak, awkwardly buttoning it up.

            Before Thorin could declare her crazy, she began in frantic gulps of breath.

            “I―I know it sounds crazy, but I swear on―oh, I don’t have anything worth something here. P―please believe me? That’s the only reason I talked to Naji because even if I come off as a Ponyboy-type-of-gal pushover, I’m not all the time. I just―” Rue choked back another sob― “want to go home.” She shut her eyes for a long moment, nodding her head along to keep from having an emotional breakdown.

            “He is a liar.”

            Rue blinked, opening her eyes. “What?”

            “That _filth_ is lying to you,” Thorin growled heatedly, his eyes brightening in this sudden, animalistic-like intensity. “You cannot simply meet the Guardians of Middle-earth. He is no one of vast importance, so it will never happen. He was _manipulating_ you.” He clenched his fists, gaze honing in on a point in the distance as though remembering something ugly. Rue swallowed hard, wondering if Thorin was thinking about that Dragon Smaug burning down his home.

            “I thought so,” she whispered dejectedly. “That was why I was planning on going to the Shire. Meet some Hobbits. I think if anyone knows the Guardians of Middle-earth, it would be Frodo.” Heck yeah, he _was_ the dude who destroyed the one ring after all.

            Thorin narrowed his eyes. “Frodo?”

            “Yeah, I think he’s the only dude with the right answers.”

    Heavy silence ensued. Rue peered closely at Thorin, for the first time _really_ noticing the differences between human bodies and Dwarf bodies. Thorin was sturdy, legs short, feet big and wide, his hands the biggest guy’s she had ever seen. Even his ears were big. Mom would have said in all her crude glory, “Must got a big dick, too!” She was one of the only people from back home she wasn’t sure she missed. Being in Middle-earth kind of felt like a vacation when she thought about being away from Mom. But when she pondered over Nat, Rue felt winded, nauseated.

            “So… _Thorin_ , is it all right if I call you Thorin?” She broke the silence, pushing her bushy bangs out of her eyes. He might like to go by King Under the Mountain for all she knew or T-Dog.

            “It is fine,” he spoke gruffly.

            “Do you―” Her voice dropped to a timid murmur― “believe me?”

            Thorin’s stare was scary penetrating, unblinking. He remained quiet for seconds, which felt like an eternity. Rue uncomfortably squirmed in her seat.

            “Yes.”

    She sat bolt right, mouth hung open in shock. “Really?”

            “Liars make my skin crawl.”

   Well, Rue assumed she had passed the making-your-skin-crawl test then. She grinned, leaning closer to Thorin.

            “Can I ask you something else? Please?”

            Thorin nodded slowly, the gesture unmistakably hesitant.

            “Do you know the Guardians of Middle-earth?” Okay, it sounded stupid once she had asked it, but she had to try.

            “Would I have not mentioned that if I did?” Thorin said sarcastically.

            “Good point.”

    Rue rubbed her hands together, not knowing what to say. She ventured a glance over her shoulder, hoping to see the Ri brothers burst through the door any moment.

     She spun back around, muttering so the ghost wouldn’t hear her, “I heard this room is haunted. The other night the door creaked open by itself.”

            Thorin gave her a quizzical expression, a mix between fascination and the utmost determination to remain rigid. His curious blue eyes betrayed him, though.

            “A ghost?”

            “Yep,” Rue spoke lightheartedly, her voice the complete opposite from the vortex of emotions swirling inside her. “Me and my cousin used to go ghost hunting. Things used to get crazy, like we went driving down this haunted country road called Milton Road…”

   Rue told Thorin about the whacky experiences out on Milton Road: the windows fogging up, the car dying for one-minute, the radio shutting off, and mysterious thuds hitting the vehicle. That then led to the explanation of cars, which Thorin seemed really judgmental about. Somebody preferred horses and wagons―whatever they had in Middle-earth. He grumbled something like, “When Men have taken over, _cars_ are preferred over horses. Pitiful.”

    Other than Thorin’s critical comments here and there, he wasn’t such bad company. He was actually a great listener.

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate_

_On a bed of nails she makes me wait_

_And I wait without you_

       Rue blinked awake, yawning, tasting nasty morning breath. She sat up in bed, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she took in the sight of Thorin sitting in the chair, seeming perfectly at ease for a man who’d been hit with a pipe last night. Maybe Thorin did this type of thing often: get in a bar fight, get injured, and keep going. The Ri brothers were long gone, having left at first light―that was what people in Middle-earth liked to call sunrise. They had said something about needing to return to their hometown for work. That was when Thorin had stubbornly forced Rue to take the bed. Their conversation had been something like this:

            “Take the bed.”

            “But you need it.”

            “I do not.”

            “Fancy Pants hit you with a pipe, Thorin, come on.”

            “I said take it,” he had growled with finality, not flinching. Well, if one thing was for sure, Dwarves _were_ stubborn.

    Rue ran her hands through her crazy hair, trying her best to maintain the borderline afro. She yawned, realizing this was her strangest morning since falling in Middle-earth, wailing her arms, and crashing in a barn.

            “The owner came in here minutes before you woke,” Thorin spoke guardedly. “He said the Master of Bree will be here in a short while.” Great. His eyes narrowed in slits. “I should not have spent the night in here.”

            “They already think I’m crazy.” Rue shrugged, sitting up, stretching her arms. As long as she knew what was going on down _there_ , then she was good. 

            “Why do you take serious matters lightly? Having a reputation as a―” His voice dropped to a discreet whisper― “ _whore_ is nothing to brush off.” His eyes were heated. Man, Thorin felt things too much, she realized. Even the tiniest things struck _something_ in him.

            “I know it’s not true, so I’m okay. I mean, if this ruins your reputation, then I’m _really_ , _really_ sorry.” She folded her legs Indian style, hoping Thorin wasn’t known as “The Prancing Pony heartthrob” now. “I just didn’t know what else to do last night. I’m sorry, Thorin.”

            His hands were in his lap, fingers tense. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Oh?

   Thorin gazed at her, Rue reddening at the intensity in his eyes. It felt like too much, like his eyes were powerful enough to penetrate through stone, through her. She gulped, staring at the bed sheets tangled around her sweatpants in mock awe.

            A thunderous _knock_ resounded. Rue jumped in alarm, squeaking. Oh, please no. Already?

    Thorin stood up in one swift movement, marching for the door. He was wearing his coat again, body language screaming he was ready for Claudio to come a-knocking. His sheath hung by his side, his hand hovering above the hilt of his sword. If she’d learned anything in Middle-earth, it was that people always had a weapon on them. Kind of like the ghetto.

    Moments later, he opened the door, puffing out his chest. Rue jumped off the bed, awkwardly standing by the chair, wishing she had the chance to clean-up a little. She was meeting the Master of Bree, who could be like the Ministry of Magic for all she knew.

     A short, round, stout man passed Thorin as he came in the room, but he wasn’t alone. Naji was right behind him, his arm in a sling, his nose taped up. It hit Rue like a thunderbolt. Naji wasn’t like Gaston, he was like Draco Malfoy! His face was bruised all over, black and blue, an ugly burn etched in his right cheek. Rue cringed at the sight, deciding right there and then that Thorin would _so_ run the Southside of Stockton if he were from the hood. He was a tough son of a gun.

    Claudio wore red and green robes―hmm, Christmas colors―peering at Thorin with these beady, critical eyes. Rue looked at Naji, and then at Claudio sheepishly, deliberating jumping under the covers or hiding underneath the bed. She couldn’t do that, though. She had agreed to take the blame.

            “So this is the Dwarf who laid violent hands on my son,” Claudio said disparagingly, only mere inches taller than Thorin. In return, Thorin glared daggers, absolutely fearless.

            “No, that was me!” Rue declared frantically, awkwardly running towards them, standing by Thorin’s side.

    Claudio and Thorin looked away from each other, their gazes falling on Rue.

            “What are you doing?” Thorin snapped.

            “You expect me to believe such nonsense.” Claudio shook his head. “ _Pathetic_.” Now he sounded just like his son.

            “Father, it was the Dwarf!” Naji hastily jerked his head at Thorin.

            “Hey, I grew up in the ghetto!” Rue declared defensively in a shrilly voice. Like they knew what the ghetto was. It wasn’t _impossible_ that it could’ve been her who kicked butt. Who was she kidding?

            “I did strike your son,” Thorin spat harshly, his eyes intense. “He insulted the loss of Erebor.”

      Silence fell, the morning light coming from the window, brushing across Naji’s medieval bandages. Rue’s eyes froze on his dark eyes, averting her gaze immediately when Naji smirked derisively. He then mouthed, “You whore.”

            “It is unwise for you and your kin to involve yourselves in my son’s courtship matters,” Claudio hissed, revealing buck-like teeth. Courtship?

            Rue whimpered, “Courtship? I think if there was a courtship going on I’d remember. We’re not in a courtship.”

            Naji mouthed to her from the safety behind his father, “Not yet.” Asshole.

            “I not only discover Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, struck _my_ son last night, but now I come in here to find you have shared a bed with what is rightfully my son’s!” Claudio bellowed, his face turning purple. Rue thought of Uncle Vernon for some reason. Did that make Naji Dudley and Draco Malfoy put together? That was a lethal combination.

            “Hang on,” Rue squeaked. “I’m not his property. That’s really sexist, Mr. Claudio. I need to get Feministing up in here.”

            Of course, Claudio ignored everything she said. Rue buried her head in her hands, wondering if things could get any worse. With her crappy luck, they probably would.

            “I thought Dwarves were an honorable race, especially one from the line of Durin, the rightful King Under the Mountain.” Claudio’s hands were on his sides, his bulging belly sticking out as he inched closer to Thorin in anger.

            “WE DID NOT SHARE A BED!” Thorin roared, losing complete control of his temper, nostrils flaring.

            “Hey, hey,” Rue interjected fast, awkwardly stepping between them. They stepped away from her, Thorin looking seconds away from throttling Claudio with his hands, while Claudio jutted his chin out, completely in disbelief.

            “This is _my_ land, Dwarf, hold your tongue or I will―”

            “YOU WILL WHAT?”

Desperately, Rue waved her arms about, crying out piercingly so they were forced to listen.

“All right, Naji knows I didn’t beat him up! But we can pretend I did, and I’ll take the blame for what Thorin did! I’ll do anything―just leave him alone! Please!” She was out of breath, panicking, realizing her big mistake seconds too late. _I’ll do anything_. Her dark eyes were big in fear, in regret.

      Triumphantly, Claudio nodded. “Oh, you will, will you?’

            Rue nodded mutely, gazing at her feet. She wore her sketchers, her running shoes from when she was on track in high school. More than anything, she wished she were back in high school, going to track meets and all that jazz. It was better than being trapped in _Middle-earth_. Why not Hogwarts? 

            “Marry my son.”

            “What?” Thorin growled loudly, unable to hide the disbelief seeping in his voice. It was obvious he thought the idea was ludicrous.

            She didn’t look up, defeated as she said miserably, “Okay.”

_My hands are tied, my body bruised_

_She got me with nothing to win_

_And nothing else to lose_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for even reading this if you made it down here! You can follow me on tumblr at pearlprimrose, where you can read my shameless fanfic rants and snippets of "Heroes" from Thorin's POV.


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